


Davina

by starkhasheart



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crossdressing, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 02:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkhasheart/pseuds/starkhasheart
Summary: “My ring gets awfully tight when I get hot,” Davina explains, before threading her fingers in Aziraphale’s hair and yanking him up for another heart-stopping kiss.





	Davina

**Author's Note:**

> for those of you who are unaware, miss david tennant played a woman in a skit once and i haven't been the same since. if you haven't watched it i would highly suggest you watch this [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1MugMmjaoY) video instead as it excludes the transphobic bits from the actual show. 
> 
> crowley is roleplaying as davina, and uses she/her pronouns up until he's not her anymore.
> 
> hope you enjoy! sorry if there's any typos i wrote this in 2 hours

Aziraphale decides to close up shop early for the day, eager to try out the new patisserie down the street that had just opened up. He hears they do wonderful things with macarons.

He pops in for a bit and gets a dozen macarons of assorted flavors, two croissants (one chocolate and one plain; Crowley’s not a big fan of sweets, but Aziraphale knows he’ll sample one of the macarons), and a gorgeously decorated cupcake he saw in the front window. Thanking the bakers with a smile, Aziraphale leaves the patisserie with a white box of his goodies in hand, and a skip in his step.

His day has been rather nice so far; the shop was dead most of the day, no customers bothering him and attempting to purchase one of his precious books, and Crowley was supposed to be coming over later in the day. His mind flashes to his demon and he can’t help but smile.

If anyone told Aziraphale six thousand years ago he would be head over heels in love with a demon, why, the angel would have laughed in their face. But, lo-and-behold, here he is six thousand and then some years later, during the Rest Of Their Lives, hopelessly smitten by Crowley. It’s not like it happened overnight; no, many years of pining came to a head one night of the Rest Of Their Lives. After their little stints in Heaven and Hell, a celebration was in order. Drinks were shared, confessions exchanged drunkenly, hands searching for each other and lips seeking lips in the dark of Crowley’s flat. It was like a weight had been lifted off Aziraphale’s shoulders, even more so when he realized Crowley felt the same way about him. With their bosses off their backs, they were finally free to do what they wanted. What they wanted was each other.

Aziraphale hops up the steps of his bookshop and flicks his hand, and the door unlatches. With his eyes closed and humming a tune, he steps inside, the familiar smell of must and paper filling his nostrils, surrounding him in comfort. Aziraphale turns to latch and lock the door and when he turns back, he nearly drops his box of confections.

Standing in the middle of his bookshop with a tome in hand is a tall, lithe figure, with a head of fiery auburn locks that fall in coils down their shoulders. They’re dressed in a white blouse and black pencil skirt, cinched tightly around their waist, accentuating their figure. Aziraphale’s eyes slide down long legs, taking in muscular calves and stiletto heels. Their back is to him, and they’re holding a book, skimming through the pages with an air of disinterest.

Aziraphale clears his throat. “Erm. I’m terribly sorry, miss, but I do believe we’re closed.”

The woman stops leafing through the pages of the book and snaps the book shut audibly, and slowly turns around to look at Aziraphale. The angel sucks in a breath.

They, of course, had discussed this scene beforehand. Aziraphale’s train of thought was merely derailed at the thought of sweets.

He’s never seen Crowley like this, all dolled up just for him. _This isn’t Crowley_ , he reminds himself. Aziraphale feels completely speechless, watching as she turns completely to face him, and he takes her all in. Her high cheekbones, her painted lips, the color of freshly spilled blood, black-lined eyes with dark, impossibly long lashes, and her eyes—still the same as ever, serpent yellow, pupils merely dark slits against amber. Aziraphale’s heart kickstarts in his chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says softly, in Crowley’s voice sans accent. Scottish, Aziraphale believes. “The door was unlocked, and I just wandered in. Looking for a book, you see.”

Aziraphale gives a strained smile, forcing his eyes to stay focused on her face. Not her chest, not the curves of her body, not her lithe but surprisingly strong looking legs. She gives a slightly smug grin, as if she knows he’s struggling.

“Right then. Er, let me just set these down,” Aziraphale rasps, puttering over to his desk and setting the box down. “Oh, terribly rude of me to not offer you one—care for a macaron? There’s chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, strawberry, and the like.”

She considers this, tilting her head to the side. Aziraphale feels her snake-like eyes burning into his back. He tugs at his collar.

“Strawberry’d be nice,” she says finally, twirling a red coil of hair with a long finger. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

Aziraphale plucks a strawberry macaron from the container and turns around, offering it to the woman. Instead of taking it from his hand with her own, she merely leans in and tugs it out of his fingers with her teeth. Aziraphale flushes, a singular thought entering his mind. _Oh, so he’s really going to try and kill me tonight, isn’t he?_

She chews thoughtfully, and Aziraphale sees she’s gotten a drop of strawberry filling on the corner of her mouth and a few drops on her fingers. Knowing he’s looking at her, her tongue darts out of her mouth to collect the dot of filling, a flash of pink. She then lifts her fingers up to her mouth and sucks them in, collecting all the strawberry filling off her skin. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment and she lets out a sound akin to a moan before she pops her fingers out, and Aziraphale feels like he’s walked into a wall of hellfire.

“That was simply divine,” she says, giving Aziraphale a knowing look.

“Yes. Er. Quite.” Aziraphale’s voice cracks. Unbecoming of an angel, really. “So. Did you perchance mention your name?”

“Ah, no I didn’t. Terribly rude of me. My name is Davina.” She shakes out her curls and tucks a strand behind her ear. “And you are…Mr. Fell, by chance?”

“Indeed I am,” Aziraphale says, giving Davina a weak smile. “So, what book is it that you were searching for? I can see if I’m in possession of it.”

Davina gives him a _look_ , her lips slightly pouted, still twirling her hair round her finger coyly. She takes a step closer to the angel, the sound of her heel clacking on the floor deafening.

“I must confess, I didn’t exactly come here with books in mind, Mr. Fell,” Davina confesses, a lilt to her voice; she sounds almost guilty.

“Oh?” Aziraphale rasps, his breath unsteady. Not that he needed to breathe. “What exactly did you have in mind, dear?”

Davina cocks her head to the side, sidling up to Aziraphale so close that their chests were touching. With the heels, she’s got a few inches on him. A steady hand comes and rests upon Aziraphale’s chest, right below his bowtie, nails dragging down the fabric of his clothes. She’s wearing a ring.

He must ask Crowley where he got his nails done once this is over.

“What I had in mind was _you_ , Mr. Fell,” she confesses, running her pink tongue over her teeth. She looks like she wants to devour Aziraphale whole. “They mentioned a handsome man ran this bookshop, but I don’t think the word _handsome_ quite encompasses all of you.”

_Oh, good Lord_ , Aziraphale thinks, swallowing. It’s suddenly incredibly stuffy in the bookshop and he wishes he wasn’t in all these dreadful layers.

“But…you’re married,” the angel stammers out, nodding to the ring on Davina’s finger.

“ _Was_ married,” she says, flexing her hands against his chest. “He’s been gone for quite a while.”

“Terribly sorry to hear that,” the angel murmurs, gulping as Davina’s hands slide up to cup his neck.

“’S all right,” she says, fingering Aziraphale’s bowtie. “It’s been a minute. I’ve just been incredibly lonely, is all.”

Aziraphale feels like he’s finally integrated into the scene, the initial shock disappearing as he feels white heat pooling deep in his gut.

“Perhaps I could assist you with feeling…less lonely?” The offer stands in the air, as the space between their faces grows smaller and smaller. Davina is the one who starts the kiss, her painted lips pressing against Aziraphale’s softly at first, then crushingly, mouth moving with an almost wanton desperation. Aziraphale groans into the kiss, threading his fingers through Davina’s ginger locks to cup the back of her head, pulling her impossibly closer.

When they break the kiss they’re both panting, which is unnecessary for the both of them, but just feels right at the moment. Surprisingly, Davina’s lipstick has not smudged at all, but her face is flushed, slit pupils dilated slightly. She’s giving Aziraphale a wild, hungry look. Not breaking eye contact, she reaches with her right hand and yanks the band wrapped around her ring finger off, flinging it somewhere in the bookshop. Aziraphale hears it clatter in the distance.

“My ring gets awfully tight when I get hot,” Davina explains, before threading her fingers in Aziraphale’s hair and yanking him up for another heart-stopping kiss.

Aziraphale manages to maneuver their way up into the little loft above the bookshop, Davina’s lips barely leaving his in the process. When they finally reach the bed Aziraphale finds himself on his back, with her climbing on top of him. Her lipstick is smudged and he knows his lips must be covered in it.

Davina moves from his mouth to his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to the exposed flesh there, leaving lipstick marks all in her wake. She gives him a look, asking for permission, before undoing his bowtie and tossing it carelessly across the room. Aziraphale makes sure it ends up in a safe location. Davina moves to his buttons, his multitude of buttons, her fingers deftly working them open as her mouth busies itself with leaving bruises all along the expanse of Aziraphale’s throat.

“You’re absolutely gagging for it, aren’t you?” Aziraphale comments, and he hears a noise of affirmation—it’s needy, like a whine.

Davina has worked Aziraphale’s shirt, waistcoat, and jacket off, and they join his bowtie somewhere in the recesses of safety. She’s now hard at work getting his trousers off, and she stops when she notices the tenting fabric of his crotch. Aziraphale doesn’t meet her eyes, flustered, but she’s smirking, palming him through the fabric.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Davina comments. She leans forward to mouth at the tenting fabric.

“You’re one to talk,” Aziraphale retorts, voice wavering. “Saucy little minx.”

And Davina just _giggles_ at that, before yanking Aziraphale’s trousers off completely, leaving the angel completely bare. He feels exposed, like he always does, even though he and Crowley have done this a handful of times before. This time, however, was a tad different.

His achingly hard cock has sprung free, thick and pink, pearlescent liquid already beading at the slit. Davina casts him a glance, asking for permission, before she takes Aziraphale in her hands. Aziraphale sighs, eyelids fluttering shut at the slight relief. Crowley always had clever hands, and Davina is no different, dragging her hand loosely up and down Aziraphale’s shaft. When Aziraphale feels wet heat envelope the head of his cock his eyes fly open and a surprised groan is punched out of him. And oh, what a sight, Davina bent down, taking the angel’s cock in her mouth, painted lips wrapped around the appendage and leaving marks.

“Oh, good _Lord_ ,” Aziraphale blasphemes, back arching off the mattress as his cock brushes against the back of Davina’s throat. Davina moans around his dick, constricting her throat in such a way that is driving the angel mad. She pushes down his hips against the bed, insurance so he doesn’t thrust up into the heat of her mouth again, as she works his cock with her mouth, like the best ice lolly she’s ever had.

She removes her mouth from the angel’s cock with an audible pop, pressing a kiss to the head before climbing back over Aziraphale’s body, leaving a trail of kisses and lipstick marks in her wake. She smiles down at the angel, the epitome of beauty, her curls brushing against Aziraphale’s skin.

“You taste lovely, angel,” Davina says, and it’s so Crowley that Aziraphale can’t help his cock twitching.

“And you’re wearing far too much clothing.” Aziraphale cups Davina’s cheek, brushing his thumb over a flushed cheekbone. “May I do the honors?”

“Mm-hm,” Davina merely murmurs, allowing Aziraphale to shift their positions. She’s now flat on her back with Aziraphale leaning over her.

Aziraphale’s always known Crowley’s beautiful, from the moment they met in the Garden. But, he looks even more gorgeous now as Davina, red curls splayed around her face like a fiery halo, eyeliner and mascara smudged, red lipstick smeared across pretty lips. Her eyes are wide, pupils completely dilated, and she’s flushed, and Aziraphale commits this image to memory. He wants to see it in paintings.

He works carefully on her blouse, undoing every button with care. Once it’s off Davina, he folds it neatly and sets it aside somewhere, much to her chagrin. He then works on the skirt, cinched at her waist, undoing it and shimmying it down her hips, making sure to collect her shoes as he goes. He leaves kisses in his wake, down her chest, her stomach, her thighs, and her legs, before he’s back where he started, and Davina is only dressed in a lacy black bra and matching panties.

She looks almost embarrassed, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. The angel cocks his head to the side, reaching to grasp Davina’s chin in his hands, forcing her to look at him. She’s sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

“It’s been a bit since I’ve been…like this, Mr. Fell,” she confesses, eyes wide. “I do hope I look all right…”

Aziraphale can’t help the soft smile that spreads across his face, and he leans down to press a tender kiss to the corner of Davina’s mouth. He pulls away. “You look lovely, my darling. Don’t fret one bit.”

Davina gives the angel an appreciative look, but she’s still fidgeting underneath him, and Aziraphale can see she’s squeezing her thighs together. Searching for friction, hopeful for a release.

“May I remove this?” Aziraphale asks, dragging his finger along the lace of Davina’s bra. She nods eagerly, arching her back so Aziraphale can have access to the clasps. He fumbles with them for a bit, before Davina chuckles and sits up, reaching behind her to grasp Aziraphale’s hands, guiding him. They undo the clasps together, and soon the bra is joining the other abandoned pieces of clothing somewhere on the floor.

He’s never seen Crowley with breasts before and the sight is absolutely taking Azirapahale’s breath away. He’s speechless. They’re perky, about average size (Aziraphale knows they’re measured in cups but he’s not exactly sure _how_ ) with dusky nipples, already hardening. Unable to stop himself, Aziraphale lurches forward and latches his mouth on one breast while his hand goes to squeeze the other, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“ _Oh_ ,” Davina gasps, throwing her head back. Aziraphale remembers how sensitive these parts of his demon are. “Oh, G—Sa— _somebody_ , Mr. Fell, that feels so bloody _good_ , don’t stop—”

Aziraphale obliges, biting down on the nipple in his mouth, causing Davina to cry out. He moves his mouth all around her breasts, biting, licking, sucking until they’re covered in teeth marks and bruises are beginning to form. While his mouth was busy Aziraphale’s free hand slides down Davina’s flat stomach, down to the lip of her panties. He drags his fingers over the fabric between Davina’s legs, smirking against her skin when he feels the soaked cloth.

“So wet for me already, love?” the angel teases, freeing his mouth to latch on to her neck. Davina merely moans in response, lifting her hips up to let Aziraphale slide her panties off, a string of slick sticking to the fabric.

“Please don’t tease me, I don’t think I can bear it,” Davina whines, as Aziraphale’s hand reaches back down to explore her slick folds. There’s a neat little triangle of red hair on her mound and the angel can’t help but smile into her neck.

“I’ll see to what you can bear and what you cannot,” Aziraphale says with an edge of authority. He knows Crowley loves it when he takes the reigns in bed, and Davina is no exception, moaning wantonly at the angel’s words.

Davina keens when Aziraphale spreads her lips and finds her throbbing clit, circling the organ with a finger before pressing down on it like a button. She arches off the mattress, head thrown back as a cry rips from her throat.

“Please, Azira— _Mr. Fell_ ,” Davina pleads, correcting herself.

“What do you need, lovely?” Aziraphale asks, sliding a finger inside of Davina’s wet heat. He feels her cunt clench around the intrusion.

“Need you inside,” she grits out, fucking down onto Aziraphale’s finger. He adds another for good measure, crooking them nicely. “Fuck, _please_ —”

“But my darling, I _am_ inside of you,” the angel says coyly, playing innocent as if he didn’t have two fingers buried deep inside of Davina’s pussy. “I’m afraid you’ll have to specify what you want _inside_ of you.”

“Please don’t make me say it,” Davina pleads. Aziraphale tuts, deciding to add a third finger. Davina nearly screams, covering her face to hide her pleasured expression. Aziraphale finger-fucks her slowly, just enough to drive her batty.

“I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me, gorgeous,” the angel says simply.

Davina glares up at him, her character breaking and Crowley’s leaking through the cracks. Aziraphale can’t help but smirk.

“I want,” Davina says, through clenched teeth, “your _cock_ , Mr. Fell. I want you to fuck me with your cock.”

Aziraphale removes his fingers and Davina whines in protest. He brings his soaked fingers up to Davina’s mouth, brushing them over her lips until she gets the hint. She opens her mouth and wraps her lips around the digits, moaning as she tastes her arousal on Aziraphale’s skin, salt and slick. She runs her tongue up the skin and presses kisses to the pads of the angel’s fingers. Satisfied, Aziraphale pulls his hand away and leans in to crush his lips against Davina’s, grabbing his cock and lining himself up with her cunt before pushing in. It’s a slow drag, it’s _agonizing_ , but he’d be damned if he hurt his demon in search of his own pleasure.

Davina’s thrown an arm over her eyes, her chest rising and falling swiftly as she pants, willing herself to get used to the stretch of Aziraphale’s cock sliding deep into her clenching cunt. The angel finally bottoms out and he’s leaning over Davina, pressing encouraging kisses over her breasts, up her neck, until he finally reaches her lips. Experimentally, he sucks her bottom lip between his teeth, and she whines.

“Please move,” she says, voice small and pitiful, and Aziraphale can’t help but humor her. He gives an experimental thrust, once, twice, until he’s set a slow, steady rhythm, his cock dragging in and out of Davina’s glorious wet heat.

Aziraphale throws one leg over his shoulder as he plows into Davina, her moans and cries of pleasure with each thrust like music to his ears, better than any heavenly hymn. They could write songs about her, Davina, about her beauty, but Aziraphale knew he only wanted her to himself. She was his, after all. They were each other’s, in mind, body, and spirit.

“Oh, _somebody_ , please Azi—Mr. Fell, please move faster,” Davina cries out, head thrown back.

And what can he do besides oblige his lovely demon?

Aziraphale picks up his pace, slamming in and out of Davina at almost inhuman speeds. The headboard of the bed is smacking against the wall and Aziraphale knows he’s going to have to fix it, but that’s at the back of his mind now. All he’s focused on how is his Davina, _his Crowley_ , spread beneath him so wonderfully, taking his cock like she was made to, moaning wantonly for it. And just like when Crowley is close to release, Davina is _loud_.

“Please, please, _please_ ,” she begs, a tad incoherent. She’s drooling slightly, hair a wild mess, lipstick smudged across her face. “Please, your cock is so good, you feel so good, Mr. Fell, please don’t stop, please don’t _stop_ —”

“Wouldn’t think of it, darling,” Aziraphale pants out, hips moving erratically. He watches as every thrust makes Davina’s breasts bounce, and with one hand he reaches out to pinch a nipple, his other hand snaking down to toy with her clit. She _keens_ and babbles on.

“Fuck, _yesssss_ , like that, right there,” she hisses, the walls of her character cracking even more as she’s being fucked senseless by the angel. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Fell, angel, _Aziraphale_ , I’m gonna—”

She doesn’t finish the statement, however, when Aziraphale is rubbing at her clit mercilessly and he thrusts hard enough and hits the right spot that sends her off, her orgasm cresting in a powerful wave, crashing into her with enough force to punch a howl right out of her chest. Her back is arched off the bed, her cunt fluttering deliciously around Aziraphale’s cock, and it’s too much for the angel to handle; with a few final thrusts, he finishes, spilling hot angelic come deep inside the demon.

The two collapse on the bed next to each other, after Aziraphale pulls out, his release dripping out of Crowley’s pussy over his thighs. He wants to lean down and lap it all up, but he knows Crowley would fuss at him about it. Besides, he’s a bit spent, and there’s no doubt his demon is, as well.

They both lay in silence, trying to catch the breaths they don’t need. A lanky arm is slung around him and he feels Crowley against him, breasts still present and pressing against his arm. Aziraphale shifts so they’re face to face, chest to chest. His demon gives him a sleepy smile, looking completely fucked out.

“Hi,” Crowley says, voice ragged.

“Hi there, dear.” Aziraphale leans forward to press a kiss to Crowley’s nose. “I assume you had a good time?”

“Bloody hell, angel. _Absolutely_ ,” Crowley replies. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, taking in his angelic scent, mixed in with sweat and the stench of sex. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be as into it as I am.”

“Why wouldn’t I be, love?” Aziraphale murmurs, tracing patterns onto Crowley’s freckled back; letters of an ancient language, long since extinct. “It’s something you wanted. Of course I’m going to be excited about it.” He stops tracing patterns for a moment, a thought crossing his mind, before continuing again. “I do have a question though, my dear.”

“What is it?”

“Where exactly did you come up with…with Davina?”

Crowley snorts into Aziraphale’s neck, craning his head up to look at the angel with loving eyes. “Saw her on a skit of this show a while back. Thought she was pretty. The actor kind of looks like me, y’know.”

“Who’s the actor?”

“Eh. Can’t remember.” Crowley stretches out, before clinging to Aziraphale again like a koala. “Some bloke.”

Aziraphale hums, twirling one of Crowley’s locks of hair with his fingers. “Interesting.” He brings the hair to his lips for a quick kiss. “How about a quick shower and then we can sleep, hm, love?”

Crowley frowns at the suggestion of moving from the comfort of the bed and Aziraphale’s arms, but he remembers the sticky situation between his thighs. “Fine, all right, I guess. ‘S long as you wash my hair.”

The angel chuckles. “Anything for you, my darling demon.”


End file.
